


Tommy

by wolfy_writing



Category: Invaders (Marvel), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Namor the Sub-Mariner (Comics)
Genre: M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Wartime Romance, World War II, based on the 2019 Invaders, if you know the comic you know who dies at the end, implied unrequited Jim/Namor, it's a war, my gay Jim Hammond headcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 04:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20303806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfy_writing/pseuds/wolfy_writing
Summary: "Tommy.  God, Tommy.   Have you seen Namor at all?  He loved that kid."The war, Namor, and Tommy Machan





	1. Chapter 1

The battle had been gone poorly even before the flamethrowers came out.

Namor had fought with all of his might, but it had been days since he'd been able to swim at any length.And the annoying child the Torch liked kept flying too close, his clumsy heat draining the strength from Namor's muscles.

Namor fought on, determined, and seized the Nazi tank.It felt strangely heavy, and he strained to lift it over his head.

Then a flame struck Namor in the back.

Namor howled and dropped the tank.He turned.

Behind him stood a Nazi, carrying one of their accursed flame-throwers.

Namor let out a roar of rage."Coward!You strike me from behind?Face me!"The burn had nearly taken the last of his strength, but a prince of the blood did not quit a fight."Put down that weapon, if you dare, and face me like a man!" 

That was, Namor knew, unlikely to work.But if the Nazi dropped the flamethrower, Namor still had a hope of victory.

The Nazi advanced slowly, then activated his flame.

A blast of flame struck Namor in the chest, nearly dropping him.Namor struggled on, through the fire, and reached the Nazi.

He managed to grab the barrel of the flame weapon, and twist.

Then he put one hand on each side of the Nazi's head, and squeezed until his skull shattered.

The Nazi dead, Namor slumped to the ground. 

An American soldier came running over towards Namor.He had red hair, and a red cross on a white armband.

"I'm a medic" he said."Prince Namor, right?"

Namor groaned."Water.I...I need water."

"Right."Tommy pulled out a canteen, and gave Namor a long drink. 

Namor drank half the canteen's contents, then turned his head. "On...my skin."

Tommy carefully drizzled water on Namor’s chest.Namor could feel his skin absorbing the water, starting to heal.

"Can you move?" Tommy asked."I'm going to help you to a more secure position."

Namor nodded. 

—

They had made it a small distance when another Nazi soldier came for them.

Only bullets from the surface-dweller guns, fortunately.Even at Namor's weakest, those were no worse than an annoying sting.And the Nazi was not smart enough to target Tommy.

Tommy immediately pulled Namor behind a broken chunk of wall."I'm a medic!" Tommy called out in German."I have a wounded man!Shooting me is a war crime!"

The Nazi laughed and began calling out in rapid German.Namor did not catch all of it, but it was something about having found the "man-fish". 

He lifted his rifle, pointing it at Tommy.

Tommy pulled out his service weapon, and shot the Nazi in the head.

Namor blinked, smiled up at Tommy, and passed out.

—

Namor awake, flat on his back, staring at the roof of the military tent. 

He was covered with a thin layer of damp cloth, and there was another one beneath him.

He could hear, drumming against the roof of the tent, the sound of rain.

Namor struggled to stand. 

“Easy there.”A face loomed into view.It was the red-headed young man, Tommy.“You were pretty out of it.”

Namor looked up at Tommy.“You saved me.”

Tommy smiled.“All of the boys in my unit were impressed.You’ve saved easily half of us, but I think I’m the first one who managed to save you.”He shook his head."I never killed anyone before.He...he wasn't supposed to fire on a medic."

"The Nazis have no honor," Namor said."You fought well."He sat up, and carefully removed the wet cloth.

"My idea," Tommy said."You said water on your skin helped, so I soaked a couple of sheets."

"That was intelligent," Namor said.It would have been _better_ to take him to the sea and immerse him, but the wet sheets at least provided _some_ relief from the dehydration of his skin.

“The doctor should be here soon."

“I don’t need your surface-dweller medicine,” Namor said.He swallowed.“I need water.”If he could just get to the rain, the water would restore his strength and speed his healing.

“Of course.”Tommy grabbed a pitcher and a glass.“Here you go.”

Namor took a long drink, directly from the pitcher, draining it dry.He stood.

“I don't think that's a good idea," said Tommy.

Namor ignored him, and slowly, with great effort, walked out into the rain.

As the water fell on his skin, Namor could feel the strength pouring back into his body, healing him, refreshing him, restoring him to his full self.

He stood for a moment, his face up into the rain, then turned and looked back towards the tent. 

"What is your name, boy?Your full name?"The surface-dwellers all had multiple names.Rogers kept trying to add “McKenzie” to Namor’s name, after his surface-dwelling father.As if "Namor" was not name enough.

“Tommy.Um, Tommy Machan.”

“You have saved the life of a prince of Atlantis, Tommy Machan.That is no small thing.”

—

Mealtime, and Namor was picking over the grim food the American issued to soldiers.If they’d been closer to the seashore, Namor would have swam out and caught himself something fresh to eat. 

But out here he was left with surface-dweller military rations, which were a long way from fresh.

The Human Torch sat next to Namor, and slid Namor the bulk of his meal. It was an arrangement they’d come to - Namor’s tremendous strength took considerable food to fuel, while the Torch’s systems largely didn’t run on food.The Torch typically ate a dry biscuit or two, then he passed chocolate rations on to Toro, and the rest of his food to Namor.

After a moment, Tommy, the red-headed boy, sat down next to him.“Mind if I eat with you?” 

The Torch gave Namor a glance, then looked at Tommy.“I don’t mind,” said the Torch.“I’ve been hoping to get to know some of the men.”

“You are welcome to join us,” said Namor. 

The Torch gave Namor a surprised look. 

“I’m Tommy Machan.” Tommy stuck out a hand.“You’re the Human Torch, I know, but do you have a name?”

“Jim Hammond.”The Torch shook the boy’s hand. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking a question,” said Tommy. “But there’s all kinds of crazy rumors about you fellows.Is it true about Captain America?”

“Is what true?” The Torch asked.

“He’s secretly a robot?”

Namor laughed. This got him a smile from Tommy.

Tommy had a nice smile, Namor realized.

“Actually,” said Jim, “I’m the robot.”

Tommy looked surprised. “I would never have guessed that!You sure are well-made.Um, is that polite?”

“It’s nicer than what people usually say,” said Jim. 

“Is that why you can fly?”

Jim nodded.

Tommy looked at Namor.“And you’re from Atlantis?”

“I am a _prince_ of Atlantis.”

“So is everyone in Atlantis like you? You can all fly and throw tanks and everything?"

“No,” said Namor.He did not elaborate.

Tommy nodded, and changed the subject.“That kid, Toro, what’s his story?”

—

After that, Tommy started coming over to sit with Namor when they ate. 

Other men had tried this, and more tried after they saw Tommy's success.It usually took a few minutes of their chatter before Namor tired of their presence and told them to shut up and go away.

Not Tommy, though.

Namor never grew tired of his presence.

—

The day was quiet.No enemies in sight.And for once, they weren’t too far from shore.

“I’m going to the sea,” Namor told Rogers.“I’m going to swim.”

Rogers nodded.One thing Namor liked about Rogers was that, unlike much of the American military, he treated Namor like an ally, not a minion.He did not make Namor request permission, and he only shouted orders in the heat of battle. 

“It would be good to take someone with you,” Rogers said.“In case of an ambush..”

Namor almost protested, but then he paused.“Tommy Machan.” 

Rogers looked surprised. “You two getting along? Nice to see you making friends.” He smiled.

Namor almost protested that he wasn’t here to make _friends_ with the surface dwellers, but contented himself with an annoyed grunt.

Tommy was _better_ than the average surface-dweller. Simply being near him felt good. He could, Namor supposed, be considered a friend.

“I’ll find him,” Rogers said.

—

Namor walked slowly into the water, feeling it soak into him.

Any water he could find made him stronger and kept him well. Even a brackish puddle, or that tinny canteen water the surface-dwelling soldiers carried, was of some use.

But to make Namor feel strong, well, and balanced, there was _nothing_ like the sea.

Tommy watched as Namor swam.He sat and look around at the tree line for a bit, then back at Namor.

“I wish I’d packed swim trunks when I went off to war,” said Tommy. “The water looks good.”

Namor nodded.“It is.You want to swim?”

“I’m supposed to keep watch.Captain America’s orders.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” said Namor. 

Tommy grinned.“You’re not going to tell on me?”

“My word as a prince of the blood."

Tommy removed his shirt and trousers.He stopped for a moment before removing his undergarments.“You don’t mind if I skinny-dip?You’re not shy?”

Namor laughed.“I am not noted for my shyness, no.”

Tommy stripped naked, then walked into the water. He was pale, and had fewer muscles than Atlanteans tended to have, but they sat well on his frame.

He swam a few strokes, then turn and splashed Namor. 

“You _dare_ splash the Avenging Son of Atlantis?” Namor bellowed.

Tommy’s eyes widened. “I was just…”

Namor smiled and struck the water, making a mighty splash that drenched Tommy and left water dripping from his hair.

Tommy laughed.

It was, Namor decided, a good day.

—

“So how old are you?” Tommy asked.

Bucky glared.“Older than I look.”

“Eighteen,” Namor supplied, ignoring Bucky’s annoyed expression. Bucky was, Namor knew, angry about the whole “kid sidekick” thing. He was nearly, by surface-dweller standards, a man. 

At his age, Namor had been single-handedly attacking New York.It seemed a bit silly to treat Bucky like a child, but surface-dweller ways were not Atlantean ways.

“Me too,” said Tommy.“I joined up on my birthday.”

The Human Torch nodded. “I _tried_ to join up the day after Pearl Harbor, but it was a bit complicated. I tried to explain the whole synthetic man business, but until this team formed, they weren’t really sure what to do with me. Also, they said I was too young to join.”

Tommy frowned.“How old are you?”

“Four,” said the Torch.“I’m an android, so it’s different, but try explaining _that_ to an Army recruiter.”

“You’re four?” Tommy asked.He turned to Namor. “What’s next, you’re a hundred years old?”

Bucky grinned.“It’s like that story about the mermaids.He’s going to live for three hundred years and then dissolve into sea foam, unless he wins the love of a beautiful princess and she gives him half her soul.”

“Nonsense,” said Namor.“Foolishness.I will be the greatest emperor Atlantis has ever seen, and rule for at least a thousand years.”

Tommy looked at the two of them, then over at the Torch.

“He’s twenty-two,” said the Torch.“A few months older than Captain America.He’s the old man of the group, although I taught him a good lesson or two back in New York.”

“Don’t give me a reason to throw you into the sea, Firebug,” Namor said, smiling.

Tommy smiled.“So you’ve been friends since before the war?”

“Enemies,” said Namor.“We’ve been enemies for years now.”

The Torch smiled. “Water Rat is promising me another fight when the war ends.”

“But you’re on the same side now?” Tommy asked.“You seem to have each other’s back.”

“Jim is the best enemy I’ve ever had,” said Namor.“I’m hardly going to let anyone _else_ defeat him, now am I?”

—

It was the night after a battle, and Namor couldn’t sleep. 

It was the weather.It must be.He could feel a storm coming on. 

And he’d been dry too long. 

The battle had been grueling.Long and ugly and full of too many innocents dying. 

Walking through the ruined town afterward, the shattered buildings and the dead bodies had reminded Namor of the Nazi attack on Atlantis.

He pushed the thought away, rolled over, and tried to sleep.If the storm came, at least they’d have plentiful water.

(Namor still resented the indignity of soaking in the little metal tub Rogers had arranged to bring along, for whenever there wasn’t a natural body of water available.He didn’t think it was suited to a prince of the blood.

But he’d pick the meanest, cheapest surface-dweller tub, or even a dirty puddle over being unable to fight.)

Thunder rumbled like a distant explosion.Namor gave up trying to sleep.

He got out of the little cot and began pacing the camp.He saw a few sentries up in the dark.

And, pacing between the tents in the dark, Tommy.

Tommy looked up.“I couldn’t sleep.You?”

“I believe it’s going to rain soon.” Namor glanced up at the sky.

“Right.”

The thunder rolled.Tommy twitched.

Tommy met Namor’s eyes, then looked away.“I don’t like thunder,” he said.“Not since I was a kid.And since the war started, it sounds like…”

“Explosions,” Namor finished. 

“You hear it too?I mean I’m not a shell shock case or anything, but sometimes the sound...it gets to me.”

Namor nodded.“Since the Nazi bombardment of my home, the sound of explosions...brings back unpleasant memories.”He stared up at the sky.The clouds were thick and dark, and looked ready to burst. 

“The Nazis attacked your home?”Tommy’s face, illuminated by a flash of lightning, was pale.

“Yes.” Namor paused for a moment, then began to recount the underwater blitzkrieg that shattered his city and nearly killed his grandfather.

Tommy stood, listening silently, until Namor told of his subsequent capture and escape from a Nazi U-Boat.

“You nearly died in a Nazi cell?”

Namor nodded. “Dehydration and bad air.But I was clever.I knew they wanted me alive, so I encouraged the captain to put me in the ballast tank.He didn’t know the water would restore my strength, allowing me to tear the ship apart with my bare hands.” He grinned at his own cleverness.

Tommy didn’t smile back.“Bastards!It’s lucky you made it out!”

Namor shrugged.“It takes more than some Nazi weaklings to kill the Avenging Son of Atlantis.”

“I wish...”. Tommy paused and shook his head.“I don’t know.In my father’s day, they had the war to end all wars.And here we are again.I wish...we could really do it.Defeat every dictator and warmonger until there’s no one left but people who want peace.”

“That is a noble dream,” Namor said.He was growing sick of war.He liked _fighting_, one-on-one, in honorable combat.But war was a long, ugly slog, and seemed to have little to do with honor.

And while these surface-dweller wars killed many warriors, they seemed to kill far more ordinary people.  Namor had seen more dead children than he cared to remember.

Tommy looked up.“I should get back to my tent.I think I can sleep now.”

Namor nodded.He watched Tommy walk back to the tend.

Then he stepped out, arms up, and let the rain wash over him.

—

Tommy was asleep, his head on Namor’s lap. 

Rogers had asked that they give the men a day of rest.They’d fought a long, brutal battle, and were due to march further into enemy territory the next day.

Rogers had a good eye for the skills of soldiers, and knew when to stop pushing, so they would be strong enough for the next battle.It was one of the reasons he generated such loyalty among the men.Namor had been taking note, for when he would become king and lead the armies of Atlantis.

Not that he would ever admit it, but the example Rogers set was teaching Namor a great deal.

Namor had flown to the nearest beach, to swim and regain his strength. Tommy had joined him.

After a couple of hours, Tommy had climbed out of the water to sit and rest.He’d laid down on the sand to dry off before putting his garments back on.Soon after that, Namor joined him.

And now Tommy was asleep, his head on Namor’s lap.

Namor lightly traced his fingers through Tommy’s soft red hair, careful not to wake him.The battle had been wearying, and surface-dwellers could not restore themselves as easily as Namor could. 

And Tommy rarely slept peacefully.Namor often found him pacing the camp at night, smoking.

Tommy seemed to rest better, Namor noticed, when Namor ran his fingers through Tommy’s hair.

Namor ran a finger around the curve of Tommy’s strange, round ear.Round ears had always stuck Namor as ugly, but on Tommy, it had a certain exotic charm. 

He then felt the skin of Tommy’s neck, smooth and bereft of gills.

Tommy made a small sound and nuzzled his head deeper into Namor’s lap.

In the distance, Namor heard footsteps.He turned.

Tommy woke and jerked upright. 

“It’s Captain America,” Namor said.

Tommy scrambled upright, trying to simultaneously salute and gather up his clothing.He ended up saluting awkwardly with one hand, half-crouched, his other hand holding a bundle of fabric in front of him.“Sir, we were just…”

“Swimming, I assume.”Rogers turned his head.“Take a moment to get back in uniform, soldier.Namor and I are going to take a walk.”

“Are we?” Namor asked.But Rogers had a serious look on his face, so Namor decided to give him a chance.

—

“Look,” said Rogers.“I’m glad you and Tommy have become friends.Tommy, he’s had it rough.He grew up in a bad neighborhood, and kids used to pick on him for…well, I’m glad you two connected. And I’m sure that what was happening back there was perfectly innocent.”

“Innocent?” Namor couldn’t work out what Rights might think Namor and Tommy were guilty of. 

“I mean you probably just went swimming, right?Tommy took off his clothes so he wouldn’t get them wet?Then he took a nap afterward?” Rogers was giving Namor a pleading look.

Namor nodded.That was exactly what happened, but there seemed to be something else beneath Rogers’s words.

“Exactly. But someone else might misinterpret it.”

“Misinterpret it how?”

Rogers stopped and looked at Namor.“Do you _really_ not know? People might think - “ Rogers paused and sighed.“People might think you two were up to something homosexual.”

“Homosexual?”Namor hadn’t encountered the word before.

Rogers looked down and rubbed the back of his neck.“Men who…want to be intimate with other men.”He took a deep breath.“Sexually intimate.”

Namor furrowed his brow. They had a special name for that?

“It’s something that some humans do,” Rogers said, apparently misinterpreting Namor’s expression.“Doctors have different ideas why.Some think it’s a psychological sickness.A few think that it might be natural, something some people are born with."He drew a deep breath."But it’s illegal, and contrary to U.S. Military code.If people thought something like that was happening, it could be a problem for Tommy.”

Namor opened, then closed his mouth. He’d been just about to ask why he should care about surface-world laws, but Rogers had apparently anticipated this.

“Some commanders will try to get a man a blue ticket based on weak evidence," said Rogers."They'll see some friendly affection, perfectly innocent, and read something into it.It’s hard in America these days with a dishonorable discharge.And even if that doesn’t happen, the other men in the unit can cause a guy trouble if they think he's....that way.So go ahead and be friends, but…think about how it looks, okay?Especially when people are around.”Rogers gave Namor a pat on the back. “For Tommy’s sake.”

Namor shrugged off Rogers’s touch. He mentally cursed the stupid surface-world sexual taboos.Tommy was a good companion and a handsome young man.If he had any interest, Namor would happily bed him.But apparently, they had _laws_ against that?

And, while Namor would _gladly_ defy the air-breather foolishness, and _dare_ them to try to make him comply, it would be more difficult protecting Tommy.Surface-world people were complex, and didn’t always thrive when pulled from their environments.

“I will take that into consideration,” Namor said."I do not want to put Tommy in a difficult position."

Rogers smiled.“Glad to hear it.I’m going to have a quick word with Tommy.”

Tommy was back on the beach, now dressed in his uniform.He stood as Rogers approached.

There was a brief conversation, then Tommy nodded.Rogers gave him the friendly shoulder-touch he’d tried on Namor.

Namor guessed that was acceptable, even by the strange surface-world taboos.

He was going to need to learn their rules.

—

“You would be a handsome Atlantean,” Namor said, brushing a finger over one of Tommy’s reddish curls.“I can just picture it.Your red hair would contrast beautifully against blue skin, and pointed ears would set off your face nicely.”

Namor had checked carefully, and ensured they were far from any prying eyes.It had become almost second nature, watching carefully and thinking about what some surface-dweller might think.

He hated it, hated every second of it.But it was a sacrifice he was willing to make to keep Tommy safe.

“Blue?” Tommy asked.

“Normal Atlanteans are blue,” Namor said.

Tommy nodded and didn’t ask any questions.It was as if he sensed Namor’s desire to avoid the topic.

“If you were Atlantean,” Namor said, “I could take you with me.Permanently, I mean.”If only Tommy were Atlantean, he could stay by Namor’s side, his loyal comrade in arms, his royal advisor, and perhaps even, if Tommy wanted, his beloved companion.

If only.

“Sounds better than going back to my old neighborhood,” Tommy said.

Namor continued to stroke Tommy’s hair.

They said nothing.

—

“We’ve been called away by the American government,” Namor said.“Some mission of theirs.”

Tommy nodded.

“We should be back in a few weeks.”Namor put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder.“I will see you again.Fight well.Be safe.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Namor wanted to wrap Tommy in a tight embrace, but he wasn’t sure if that would be read as homosexual by surface-world rules. 

He nodded, squeezed Tommy’s shoulder, and walked away.

—

“Prince Namor?” A human was standing in front of him.An American soldier.Vaguely familiar. “I don’t suppose you remember me, but you saved my life.My name’s Randall Peterson.”

Namor nodded.He didn’t remember the man in front of him, but he’d saved a number of lives.

“I just wanted to thank you, and…if there’s anything I can ever do to repay you…”

Namor was about to brush past, but he paused.“You know Tommy Machan?”

Randall Peterson nodded.

“Keep him safe.He is…”. Namor paused, trying to think of a phrase that wouldn’t violate any surface-world taboos.“He is a good friend.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Thank you for coming.”Rogers looked around the tent.“Bucky found some intel I wanted to share.”

Bucky unfolded a piece of paper. “I took a little excursion behind enemy lines, and got some documents. This one stuck out for me.” He coughed and looked down at the paper. “In English, it would be ‘Fire extinguishers still in development. Not advisable to use with water, due to the fish. Leave the long match for now, snuff the short match with bullet.’” He paused and looked at Toro. 

Jim made a pained noise and put a hand on Toro's shoulder.

Rogers shook his head. "We're not letting them get Toro."

"That's right," said Bucky.  "They go after Toro, they go through me!"

Jim squeezed Toro's shoulder. 

"There's more," said Bucky.He looked down at the paper. “Fully-equipped cooks on their way to roast the fish.” He looked up. “Flame-throwers.Sounds like a lot of them.They're after Subby, too."

Jim gave Namor an alarmed look.

Rogers paced and rubbed the back of his neck.After a moment, he stopped and took a deep breath.“There are a few ways we can handle this.Namor, I’m going to give you a choice, and I want you to really _think_ about this.We could reassign you.If you’re not here, their whole operation falls apart.”

“No.”Namor shook his head.

“I said think about it.”

“A prince of the blood does not run.”

Jim put a hand on Namor’s shoulder. “I know they could use you on the Pacific Front. You'd still be in the fight.”

Namor shook his touch off. “I am _not_ letting myself be chased away by Nazi cowards!I am _not_ leaving…all of you to face Nazi flame-throwers without me!”

Rogers nodded.“Good man.”

Jim looked at Rogers, with an annoyed expression.

“So the second option,” Rogers said, “is we come at them prepared.Jim gives us a serious advantage against fire-based weapons.And Namor can fly.The flamethrowers don’t have nearly as much range vertically as horizontally.”

Bucky nodded.“If they point them at too steep of an angle, the fuel backfires and starts dripping on them.”

“We’re moving Toro out of the action.”Rogers looked at Toro. “No arguments, you’re a minor, you’re here at my discretion.”

“Um, I’m eighteen,” said Toro.“Remember, I just had a birthday?You wrote that letter explaining why I didn’t have to register for the draft.”

Rogers paused and blinked.“Right. Sorry.Still, we’re moving you out of the way.We don’t want them going after multiple targets when we can’t provide back-up.Bucky, you’re in regular uniform unless there’s press.We should assume any Invader has a target on his back.”

Bucky looked at Rogers.“How about you?”

“I can deal with snipers.Namor, we keep you up in the air.It makes you visible, and it makes it hard for them to hit you.If you see flamethrowers, here’s the plan.”Rogers outlined his strategy.

Namor nodded.It sounded feasible, as far as Namor could tell.

But one thing Namor had learned in battle was that few plans survived contact with the enemy.

—

They’d taken down the first batch of flamethrowers without a hitch.Namor had herded them into a cluster, away from the American soldiers. 

Then Jim had brought down the flames.

Some of the flamethrower-wielding Nazis were wounded.Most were dead.

That was unusual for Jim.He was incredibly precise with his flame, and generally hesitant to kill.

Namor flew low enough to draw the attention of the second group.He started to lead them off, but then, in front of him, there was a sudden wall of flame.

A second batch had flanked him, their flamethrowers disguised as rifles. 

Cursing his own foolishness, Namor flew up.Flames shot up towards him, brushing against his feet.

The flames hit his wings.

Namor fell, hitting the ground sharply.He scrambled upright.

The Nazis marched forward, firing the flamethrowers in sharp bursts.Namor might, if he was extremely lucky, slip between them and kill a few, possibly even causing them to turn their weapons on their own men. 

If Namor was going to die today, he was going to die fighting.

There was a sudden heat above him, and Jim’s voice screaming, “Namor, down!”

Namor dropped flat.

Searing heat drained at his flesh as all around him, a firestorm raged.The Nazis screamed briefly, then the air was sucked from their lungs, and all Namor could hear was the melting of their gear and the crackling of their burning flesh.

The fire died as suddenly as it came, and Namor, painfully singed and shaky with dehydration, was surrounded by a ring of charred skeletons.

Jim glanced down. “You okay?”

Namor nodded.Then he gave the gesture he’d seen Americans do, the thumbs up. 

Jim flew away.

Namor staggered forward. After the firestorm, he could hardly walk, let alone fly.He needed to find water.

He took a few more staggering steps, and sank to his knees.

“Namor!”

Namor turned.Tommy was running towards him.

“Are you okay?”Tommy grabbed Namor and helped him back onto his feet.

Namor nodded.“Water.Need...water.”

“Come here.”Tommy pulled Namor to his feet, then lead him towards a low wall, that was the remnant of a bombed-out house.

A Nazi soldier began firing at them.Namor reached out and caught the bullet in his hand before it could hit Tommy.

There were shouts of “Man-fish!”, and two more Nazis joined.

Tommy handed Namor his canteen.“Here.Drink it.I’m sorry I don’t have more.”He glanced up over the top of the wall, and then readied his pistol."Medic," he called out in German."Stop, or I will defend myself!"

Namor drank the water down gratefully.“I’ll be fine,” said Namor.“You should keep moving.”

“Like hell.I’m not leaving you!”Tommy fired back at the Nazi.

“Their bullets can’t harm me.” 

“Their flamethrowers damn well can!” Tommy fired another shot. “I’m not leaving you, and I'm killing every God-damned Nazi who tries to hurt you!"

—

It was, in retrospect, not long that they were pinned down like that. Maybe ten minutes.

Crouching behind a wall, watching Tommy fight for him, being unable to do more than wait for help, it felt like an eternity.

Finally, it ended, with fire raining down from the sky. 

The Torch flew between them and the Nazis, bringing down a wall of flame.

Namor gritted his teeth against the heat. He felt like he’d been cooked alive.

The Torch touched down.“What’s the matter?”

“He’s hurt,” Tommy said."Badly."

“I’m fine!” Namor insisted. He tried to stand and immediately collapsed into Tommy's arms.

—

When he awoke, he was in water, floating face down.

He swam a few strokes, to get the water flowing over his gills, and then rose up to the surface.

The Torch was hovering above him.“Don’t _scare_ us like that, Water Rat!”

Namor glanced around.He was in the sea.“Where is Tommy?”

“He’s on the shore.”The Torch gestured to the shoreline, where Namor could make out two figures.“Toro’s with him.We couldn’t get him to let go of you until we promised to bring him along.You two are close?"

Namor ignored him and began swimming rapidly to the shore.When the water shallowed out, he stood and began walking towards the land.

Tommy ran forward and hugged Namor tightly.“I thought I’d lost you!”

“Never.”Namor returned the embrace. 

After a moment, the Torch coughed.

Tommy broke the hug.Namor, recalling the warning he’d received from Rogers, stepped back.(He did not _think_ an affectionate embrace would be a problem, but the surface-dweller rules were too mad to understand.)

“We’re all glad you’re okay,” said the Torch.He put a hand on Namor’s shoulder.“Really glad.”He looked at Tommy, then took his hand away.“Toro and I should get back to camp.”

Toro gave the Torch a surprised look.

Namor nodded.“I shall join you.”

“No rush,” said the Torch.“You can stay here for a bit, maybe rest up, spend more time in the water?”

“He’s supposed to stay to recuperate,” said Toro.“Captain’s orders."

“Orders?” Namor bristled.He was a prince of the blood, fighting alongside the American soldiers by request, and he might choose to follow a request, but he did not take _orders_.

The Torch sighed.“We want to be careful.It’s been a long campaign, and it’s going to get worse.The more you’re fighting fit, the better off we all are, and the better you’ll be able to protect people.”He looked at Tommy.“Would you mind staying behind for a bit?We don’t want anyone unaccompanied.”

“I thought I was supposed to stay,” Toro said.

“I think it would be useful to have two people who can fly back at camp right now,” the Torch said.“And Namor’s clearly bouncing back.He and Tommy should be fine.”

“I’ll stay,” said Tommy.“I’d be happy to.”

The Torch nodded.“Toro, why don’t you help Tommy get set up to camp out overnight?”

As Toro and Tommy walked off a small distance, the Torch leaned in and started speaking to Namor in a low voice.“Look, with Tommy...I don’t know if he’s...like what Jaqueline told me about Brian and Roger or not.But I saw how he...cares for you, and I figured you two should talk privately.And whatever...ends up happening, be kind.”

“Of course.”Namor wasn’t _entirely_ sure what about Brian Falsworth or Roger Aubrey reminded the Torch of Tommy, but he couldn’t _imagine_ treating Tommy with anything less than kindness.

—

“You can make a fire, if you want,” said Namor, floating in the shallows.The sun was starting to set, and while the last time _Namor_ had been unpleasantly cold, he’d been eleven years old and caught in the middle of an Antarctic blizzard, he suspected Tommy would find this weather a bit chill.

“You sure?” Tommy asked.“I thought you might have had enough fire today.”

“It is not a problem.I would not have you uncomfortable.”

Tommy nodded.He began stacking driftwood.“Namor, there’s something I have to say.I don’t know how you’re going to take it, but please, for the sake of our...friendship, just let me finish.If you hate me afterward, or you think I’m disgusting, or you never want to see me again, I’ll leave you alone forever, but just let me talk.”

Namor nodded.“Talk.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, because I’ve seen you with girls, but...”. He paused and lit a match.“I love you.And I didn’t want one of us to die in the war before I said that.”

Namor looked at Tommy.“Why would you you think that would make me _hate_ you?You are a noble companion and comrade in arms.I am honored by your love.I hope you understand that I also love you.” 

Tommy, eyes shining in the firelight, stared at Namor.“Do you _mean_ that, or is this something that doesn't translate?”He sighed.“I’m a queer.A fairy.A homosexual.And I’m in love with you.”

Namor paused a moment, then nodded.“Ah, I see what you mean.”He walked slowly to the shore. Then he crouched down next to Tommy. “In Atlantis...things are different.”

“You don’t have queers?” Tommy asked, staring into the fire.His jaw was clenched.

“We don’t have your surface-dweller taboos against men loving men.”Namor put a hand under Tommy’s chin and tilted his face until their eyes met.“You are brave, you are loyal, you are the most _beautiful_ man the surface world has ever produced, and _everything_ about your love honors me.”Then he kissed Tommy, softly, on the mouth. 

Tommy’s eyes widened.“You mean it?”

Namor laughed.“If this were Atlantis, I would have kissed you months ago.”

—

They made love that night on the beach.Namor lay Tommy down on a patch of flat, smooth sand.

Then Namor climbed on top of him and began kissing him, beginning around Tommy’s funny round ear, and then gradually moved down Tommy’s neck, with gentle nibbles, until he reached the collar of Tommy’s shirt. 

He unbuttoned Tommy’s shirt.Tommy’s chest was pale, with sparse traces of hair.He had solid muscles, which Namor traced with his fingers, before planting a wet trail of kisses down Tommy’s stomach.

After some fumbling with fabrics and fasteners, Namor freed Tommy’s cock.It was long, in a bush of reddish curls. 

Namor opened his mouth and gently traced the tip with his tongue.This drew a soft moan from Tommy.Encouraged, Namor took Tommy’s cock in his mouth, and licked and sucked until Tommy came with a groan.

The taste was sharp and salt, and reminded Namor of home. 

He picked up his head and moved back up until his head was next to Tommy’s.

Tommy slid a hand down and grasp Namor’s cock.He stroked rhythmically, with a sure grip, until, biting his lip, Namor came.

—

"What do they say in Atlantis, about this kind of thing?" Tommy asked."You said they don't have words for people like me."

"They have a word for...relationships."Namor said an Atlantean phrase.

“What does that mean?” Tommy looked at Namor.

Namor paused.“Beloved...companion of the prince.It is common, in Atlantis, for warriors to have…beloved companions.”

“Men with men?”

Namor nodded.“Men with men, men with women, women with women, it does not matter.A beloved companion is someone who fights by your side, who protects you in battle and loves you in the peaceful moments between.Beloved companions share life-long bonds.A prince’s beloved companion may become the king’s trusted advisor, general, or bodyguard, or be granted a title and a lavish estate.”He kissed Tommy lightly on the head.“If I could bring you to Atlantis with me, I would give you all of that, and more.”

Tommy snuggled up against Namor’s chest. “This is a lot better than what they’d say in my old neighborhood.”

“What is that?” Namor asked.

“Faggot.Fairy.And then they try to kick your head in.”

Namor let out a low growl.“If you wish vengeance on anyone in your old neighborhood, just give me their names."

Tommy laughed."Thanks, but no thanks.I just want something better to go home to.”

Namor kissed Tommy on the top of his head."We will find something."

—

“Torch,” said Namor. “Come up here.I would speak with you.”

The Torch nodded and flew upward.

Namor lead him off a little way, until they were far from surface-dwelling ears.“How did you know about Tommy?”

The Torch shrugged.“I’d walked in on Brian and Roger kissing one day, and then Jackie took me aside and explained some things to me.Then I started noticing how Tommy looked at you.I wasn’t sure how you felt about him, but he looked happy, so I’m guessing...you returned his feelings?”

Namor nodded.

The Torch gave Namor a curious look.“So, are you just _pretending_ to like girls?”

Namor snorted. “No, of course not. Why would I _pretend_?” 

"To be normal," said the Torch."To _feel_ normal.To fit in."He looked down at his feet.“To feel like a real man.”

Namor shook his head.“In Atlantis, it’s different.”And what did it have to do with feeling like a man?There was nothing _unmanly_ about loving another man.“No one expects you to chose only one kind of person to love. However, I understand on the surface, people can be cruel to those who do not follow their taboos.For that reason, I must insist you say nothing about this.”

Jim nodded.“I know you and I have fought before, but we’re on the same side now.And I wouldn’t use something like _this_ against you. Your secret is safe.”

“Understand this, I fear no surface-dwellers, and I care _nothing_ for their taboos.” If _Namor’s_ safety were the only consideration, he’d declare his love for Tommy to the entire surface world and anyone who took issue with it would face the wraith of the Avenging Son. “However if this is not kept secret, Tommy may come to harm, and I _will_ defend him at all costs.”

“Wow, you really love him, don’t you?” asked the Torch.He sounded oddly sad.

“I do.”

“I’m glad you two found each other,” said the Torch, still sad.“I’ll keep this secret.I want you to be happy.”He looked down on the ground. “I should check in on Toro.” He flew away slowly.

That was a strange reaction, Namor thought.What was troubling him?Perhaps it was that Namor had found love, while the Torch was still pining for Lady Falsworth. 

It was Jim’s fault for going so slowly, pining silently and never actually declaring his feelings.Still, Namor thought he might put in a friendly word. 

Jim’s happiness had become important to Namor, and he wanted to do what he could.


	3. Chapter 3

Things changed as the war went on.

The war changed.The fight got longer and uglier.They found more massacres.More towns in ruins.

More dead innocents.

More dead children.

And more reports of people being rounded up and taken away for being Jews.

(One man, describing the trains, shrugged."I don't know where they went," he said."Who cares?They may have been from France, but they weren't _French_.Some of them would marry into French families, and make half-breeds, but that just spread the taint of the blood. Better to make them all go away."

Rogers caught Namor's fist just as he started to swing."If you punch him right now, you will kill him," Rogers said in a low voice."He disgusts me too, but he's a civilian.You're _better_ than that."

Namor put his hand down slowly, then flew away so he wouldn’t have to look at that man’s disgusting indifferent face for one more second.)

Rogers changed.He became quieter, more serious.He was still trying to follow the rules, to do the right thing, to be good.But he seemed less hopeful, less cheerful, less convinced that if he tried hard enough, he could make the rest of the world good.

Bucky changed.He worked more behind the lines.He chafed against the role of teen sidekick. He had come to manhood in the middle of the bloodiest and most horrifying war Namor had ever heard of, and he seemed to resent being forced to pretend to be an innocent boy.

The Torch changed.He lost his squeamishness at killing Nazis.He was still protective of civilians, but with Nazis, he was much readier to burn them to ashes and bones.And he began almost obsessively collecting stories about what happened to the Jews.

Toro changed.He lost his taste for the fight.He insisted on joining in still, keeping a watchful eye on either Bucky or the Torch.But as a boy he'd been hot-tempered, and ready to, as he used to put it, kick some Nazi backsides.As he young man, he was cautious and war-weary, trying to protect his loved ones from harm.

Tommy changed.There was a new tension inside of him, like something ready to snap.He would sit alone sometimes, or together with Namor, not speaking and staring off into the distance as if looking at something no one else could see.

Namor changed. For the first time in his life, he could feel himself going mad.

—

“We have a problem.”Rogers sighed.“I miscalculated.Badly.The map said the village back there still had a well.And I thought it was going to rain yesterday.It nearly did.That’s why I called you in here.”He looked at the Invaders.“It’s going to be a long, hard march.And we’re going to need to ration water.”He looked at Namor, then at Jim.“I've calculated the water ration for everyone else, but you're both special cases.How much water do you actually _need_?”

“I don’t _think_ I need water,” said Jim.“I’ve never tried to go without completely, though.My systems replicate organic functioning, so they run more smoothly with a little food and water.But I could try going without, if people need it.Give my ration to someone else.”

Rogers nodded.“Good man.If it becomes a problem, let me know.”

Jim nodded. 

Rogers turned to Toro.“Keep an eye on Jim.Let me know if you think he’s having trouble.”

Toro nodded, and looked protectively at Jim.

“Namor?” Rogers asked.“I know you need more water than humans do.How _much_ more?We want to provide enough so we can keep you in fighting shape.”

Namor had _absolutely_ no idea.

He’d never tried to ration or measure his water needs. There was only having _enough_ water, or forcing himself to carry on until he found _more_ water. On the surface, when he didn’t have enough, he’d fight his way to the nearest water source and immerse himself until he felt strong and well. And at home, the concept of measuring water intake was as strange as a surface-dweller measuring every breath in case they needed to ration the air.

“Double what a human needs,” Namor guessed. 

“You’re sure that’s enough?”

“Give me that, and I will fight until the Nazis are ground beneath my heel, or…”

“Die trying?” Rogers finished.“That’s what I’m trying to avoid.Jim, keep an eye on Namor.”

“I can look after myself.”

“You’re an incredible military asset," said Rogers."That means you’re valuable.That means I’m assigning someone to make sure you’re fighting fit.That’s how it works around here.”

Namor grunted. It wasn’t bad reasoning. It was smart, if in command, to protect your strongest assets. 

Emperor Thakorr, Namor's grandfather, hadn’t fought like that.He’d sent Namor, the strongest military asset Atlantis had, straight into battle against the surface world with no protection or support.

And Namor has lost. 

Rogers was soft, Namor knew.He seemed too soft for war.

But it occurred to Namor that _some_ of what seemed like softness was a smart strategic choice. Rogers cultivated loyalty.He protected his most valuable assets.He inspired his men.

Possibly it was useful, even _powerful_ to be, in _some_ ways, less like the Emperor Thakorr, and more like Steve Rogers. 

—

Namor barely remembered the first battle.It was an endless dusty trudge, shoving tanks out of the way, and grabbing Nazis as they fired bullet after annoying bullet into his chest, until he snapped their necks.It all ran together, to the point where it was all he could do to check the uniform before snapping a neck.

What he remembered was after.

He’d been staggering around the battlefield, looking for abandoned canteens, or puddles, or anything that would contain water.

There was a spreading pool of liquid, dark, but with a distinctive shine.His nose caught a trace of salt.

His hands were already thrust into it before his brain registered that it was blood.

Still, there was water in it.Water and salt.He could feel it being absorbed by his skin.

His brain screamed _MORE_.

He spread the blood across himself, his arms, his chest, his face.His skin drank the moisture down greedily. He felt…still strange, still confused, still unwell, but much stronger.

As the blood started to dry on his face, he noticed faces staring at him.

Surface-dwellers.Americans.Soldiers in uniform.

And the Invaders.Captain America looked angry.Toro frightened.Bucky too, although he was trying not to show it.Jim looked shocked and sad.

Namor was suddenly horribly aware of how filthy he was, and the stink of human blood drying against his skin.

A prince of the blood fought with nobility.Dignity.Honor. 

A prince of the blood did not do _this_.

“What did you say?” Jim asked. 

Namor blinked, suddenly aware that he had spoken aloud.“A prince of the blood…”He lost the sentence.

Bucky let out a shocked laugh.Toro looked away.

There were words Namor knew, words that were important.He scrambled to find them.“I needed the water.”That didn’t help.“There’s water in the blood."He tried to make more words."They were already dead.”

That helped a bit.It softened the shock on Jim’s face, and caused Rogers to shift to a different expression.

“Bucky, take Namor to my tent. Help him get cleaned up.And get him the emergency water ration.”

Bucky looked at Rogers curiously. 

“This is an emergency,” Rogers said.“Trust me.”

_Concern_, Namor realized._That_ was how Rogers was looking at him.He was worried about Namor.

—

Namor emerged from Rogers’s tent two liters of water less thirsty and considerably more clear-headed.Cleaning…that had been a difficult business without water to spare, and even after going over his skin with a stiff brush, he still stank of blood.

He emerged, and looked at the American soldiers.

Many stared.A few whispered.

Tommy came up to him. He looked Namor up and down. “Are you hurt?”

Namor shook his head.

“You bathed in Nazi blood?”

Namor looked at Tommy, then nodded.

A small smile spread across Tommy’s face.“Good.”He took Namor’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

—

“I think there’s some thing wrong with my mind,” said Namor.

If he’d been in front of anyone but Tommy, he wouldn’t have said the words out loud.He would barely have let himself _think_ them.

But they’d found a quiet space, alone.Tommy was lying on a patch of grass, and Namor was sitting, staring at the sky.

And Namor could say anything when he and Tommy were alone.

“Why?” Tommy asked.“Because of the blood?” 

Namor nodded.

“Are you letting _that_ bother you?You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Namor turned to Tommy, surprised.

“It was okay to kill the Nazis, right?”

Namor nodded.

“So how is it worse to bathe in their blood? They were dead anyway, you needed it and they didn’t. And it will put a good scare into the rest of the Ratzies.” Tommy grinned. 

“They will think I’m a monster,” Namor said.He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them close to his chest.“They will think I’m insane.”

“Hell yeah they will!”

“Perhaps,” said Namor, “they would be right.”

“No!”Tommy sat up and put his arms around Namor.“You are not a monster!You are not insane!You did _nothing_ wrong!Look, you know what the Nazis are like!You’ve _seen_ what they do to people!You _told_ me what they did to Atlantis!”Tommy’s hand began tracing circles on Namor’s back.“They’ve inflicted enough terror on other people.They should get some of it back.So _yes_, bathe in their blood.Because it scares them.Because, when they go into battle and see you, their hands will shake.Because some of them might surrender.Some of them might run.And if they surrender, if they run, if they die, we can end this war faster and more people are going to make it to the end.”He glanced around, then leaned in and gave Namor a soft kiss on the ear.“And you’re not a monster.You’re a hero.”

“Sometimes, in my head, it feels…strange.” Everything would become both simple and intense.There would be rage, or fear, or need.He would have one choice, and make it absolutely, and without doubt.

And then the feeling would stop, and he was left staring at the wreckage of his choices, trying to silence horror of what he'd done.

Tommy nodded.“It’s the war.It gets to everyone.”

“If…if I start to lose my mind, you will tell me?I trust you more than anyone.”

“I will,” Tommy said. “I promise. But you’re not insane. You’re tired, and you’ve been out of the water too long, that’s all.” He leaned in, and put his hand on Namor’s chin. “You protect us all. I am your beloved companion. I will protect you. Even if what you need protection from is inside your head”

—

In the morning, Namor found three wool-covered German canteens outside his tent.

Someone had either looted the battlefield or snuck across the battle lines and robbed the enemy camp. 

Namor suspected that Bucky would look tired over breakfast, as if he'd had a busy night.

Namor drank some of the water.Then very carefully, not wasting a drop, he poured it on his skin.

It helped.He felt more clear-headed._Almost_ clean.

It still was not enough.

—

There was a long, hard march to the next battle.

And no rain.

After the fight, Namor found himself drawn to the pools of blood again.

He hesitated.He paused. 

Then he found himself bending down, and dipping his hand in the blood.

Namor looked down at himself, his arms dripping with blood.Then at the American soldiers surrounding him, staring. 

Tommy stepped forward.He touched the blood on Namor’s hand.Then drew streaks on Namor’s face, one along each cheek bone.

With his bloody finger, he then drew a streak on his own face, along the left cheek. 

It looked strangely attractive. Namor nearly leaned in to kiss Tommy, before remembering where he was.

A few other soldiers bent down to touch puddles of blood, and drew streaks on their own face.

One laughed. 

Tommy smiled and put an arm around Namor. 

Namor saw Rogers staring at him from a distance, his arms folded.

— 

"This has to stop," said Rogers."This...the blood, it has to stop."

"They were already dead," said Namor.

"I know," said Rogers."That's the only reason why I haven't pulled you from the field completely."He shook his head."This is about water, yes?You've been out of the water too long?"

Namor nodded.

"On your honor as a prince, _that's _why you did this?No other reason?"

Namor felt a flash of anger.Was Rogers calling him a liar?"Oh my honor."

_So yes, bathe in their blood.Because it scares them._

Namor had understood Tommy's reasoning, but he had not covered himself in blood for that reason.

He was more than capable of terrifying his enemies honorably, through his strength and courage.He would not have chosen…filth and madness.

"Okay," said Rogers.He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay.This is my fault.I miscalculated on the water ration.And I should have known you couldn't manage on only double rations.I shouldn't have let things get this bad."

"I made my choice," said Namor. "I am not a child.I am..." The phrase _a prince of the blood_ stuck in his throat."I am the Avenging Son of Atlantis."

Rogers drew a deep breath.”I'm going to need you to be completely honest with me.How far can you fly in this condition.No, how far are you _sure_ you can fly?"

"I...do not know," said Namor. "A few miles?"Flying felt strangely heavy.“Maybe only one.”

Rogerrs sighed. "The map doesn't show a single body of water within _thirty_ miles.And if I send Toro or the Torch with you, that leaves us dangerously vulnerable in the air.Look, after tomorrow, we should be close to the sea.But there will be fighting.I will get you all of the water we can spare, but you need to not smear yourself in blood.It's a bad influence on the men.You saw what happened today.They weren't smearing themselves with blood because they were...sick with dehydration.They were taking _pleasure_ in it.If we don't set an example, that sort of behavior will spread, and it _will_ get worse.Units go bad.They take trophies from dead bodies, and before you know it, they’re killing prisoners, robbing civilians, and acting not like American soldiers, but like monsters.And I will _not_ let that happen!"There was anger in Rogers' voice, and steely determination."So," he said more calmly."I need you to stay in control.And I promise, I _will_ get you to the sea."

Namor nodded."I will control myself."

He was the Avenging Son of Atlantis.He was not some sort of mindless beast.

He would not _let_ himself go mad.

"Good."Rogers put a hand on Namor's shoulder."Again, I'm sorry about this.If I'd known that it was getting this bad, I'd have sent you to the sea days ago."

Namor grunted. He was not sure what to say to this.He did not like the worried, almost pitying tone Rogers was taking.

Rogers gave him a long look."I'll arrange the water.Please, hold on."

—

"This is what everyone can spare," said Tommy, pointing to the stack of canteens and the tin tub."The Torch flew around and found a farm house, and talked them into giving us a couple of buckets of water in exchange for some spare rations."

Namor looked down at the tub.It was maybe one-third full.If he crouched down in the water, he would still not be immersed.

"I'm sorry," said Tommy. "That's all we have.Captain America says if we make it through tomorrow, we'll be at the sea."

"He told me," said Namor.He stepped into the tub and crouched down low.

Tommy took a cup, and began scooping at the water and pouring it over Namor."Does this help?"

"It does."It helped a little.All of this helped a _little_.

But it was never _enough_.

Namor was starting to forget what it _felt_ like to have enough.

Tommy silently poured water over Namor for several minutes.There was a tension to his jaw, and a distant look in his eyes.

"What are you thinking about?" Namor asked.

"I'm thinking that if I could control the world, it wouldn't be like this.I would be able to give you the entire ocean, not just this little tin tub."

"One day," said Namor, "the entire ocean will be mine.I will be king of Atlantis, and it will be mine to rule."

Tommy smiled."And you'll build a better world, where wars like this don't happen."

Namor put a hand on Tommy's arm."_We_ will build a better world."

Tommy glanced around, then leaned in for a kiss.

Namor briefly let Tommy's lips touch his, and then pulled his head back."Not here," said Namor."After we reach the ocean, I will fly you somewhere private, where we have no need to fear prying eyes."

Tommy nodded.

That was, it turned out, the last kiss they would ever share.

—

The next day, they fought a battle.

Namor was not strong enough.

Tommy died.

—

After the battle, Namor went into the sea.

He barely remembered at that point. It didn't seem important. What did it matter if Namor weakened, died, or went insane?

What did anything matter? Tommy was dead.

But Randall Peterson lead Namor to the sea shore. And, his arm on Namor's shoulder, he walked Namor into the water, until they were knee deep, and Namor's body reminded him of how much he craved the sea.

He went deeper, on his own, Randall's eyes on him. Then he bent down and began to swim.

It helped, the water. It restored his body, and it realigned something in his mind. He could feel some of the madness fading.

Only some. There was something in him that the water couldn't touch.

He swam more, diving deep, trying to get the water to flow through him, make him clean, finally be enough.

But Tommy was dead. 

And all of the water in the ocean would no longer be enough.

—

Rogers insisted that Namor attend the service

Namor attended.Out of respect for Tommy and his people, he wore American-style clothing.He stood quietly, and listened to the surface-dweller prayers.He accepted when Rogers gave him a hug.

Later, when everyone was gone, Namor returned to the cliff on the edge of the sea.

He dropped to one knee, and said a short prayer of his own.

"Father Neptune, who brings men back, I ask you to guard the spirit of Tommy Machan.He is my beloved companion, and I will keep his memory in my heard always.May our souls be forever intertwined, and one day, in a world beyond this, may he be brought back to me."

Namor stood up."Goodbye, Tommy.As your people would say, may you rest in peace.”


End file.
